Love Sick
by MoonyXmadness
Summary: I loved you with everything I am, but you won't show me the affection you once did. So I seek it in the arms of another and you punish us both. /M for abuse, sex, violence./


I'm not even sure how this happened but I kinda like it so yea, here ya go.

-

My fingers dance over the ivory keys with grace I've never had. I'm alone, though. My mentor I cherish is too busy for me, but I must keep playing. The music drowns out my solitude; I have no time to wish for companionship, I'm supposed to be perfecting this song. Though I don't need to wish; there's another in the room now, soft foot steps fall behind me. I don't bother to look, the delicate sound almost lost in the melody I'm creating. A familiar cologne fills my nose as warmth envelopes my back, arms wrap around my waist and I have to cease my playing for the position it has put me in. A low purr with whispered nothings, nuzzling just behind my ear so his breath ghosts across it's shell and I'm melting back against him. What was I doing? I don't care, all I want is him. He reassures me all he is is mine, and the words leave a lingering rush of adrenaline.

I've left early from my piano lessons… again. Avoiding the eyes that so eagerly watch us has become a well practice ritual as we leave the artist's domain. Calloused fingers run gently up and down my exposed arm sending shivers down my spine, lips still close to my ear as he speaks to me. I want nothing more then to turn and meet those lips that wont still, that tease me with promises and flattery. But affection such as that should only be held behind closed doors. The walk to the apartment I've been spending so much time in as of late is a quick one, both of us lapsed into silence and the close proximity lost until the faux wood seals us off from the rest of the world.

Then he's there again, though closer even. I get to return the embrace this time as I gain my reward for my patience in the bathysphere. Lips firmly against mine, turning my thoughts to a jumbled mess; not that I need coherent thoughts at this time.

I feel so safe in his arms; he'll protect me from the world.

We don't bother with conversation at times like this; playful jabs and small chuckles, dirty words murmured in forms of promises. With our mouths so busied on each others flesh we have no room for real words, we don't need them. We make our way towards his bedroom, slowly stripping off the layers of cloth hiding skin we so desperately seek. Multitasking.

I stumble before we make it to our destination, but he knows how clumsy I am and stops us both from toppling back, helping me crawl safely onto the bed. Though he can't help the laugh from bubbling up. I want to be offended, but his laugh… I'm lost all over again as he kisses me for the hundredth time, trapping me between the bed and himself, and I don't want to escape. I wrap my legs around his waist and give him an uncharacteristic grin. He returns with a look that would have been intimidating if I couldn't reassure myself he would never hurt me; I trust him more then I should for how short a time I've know him, or so I've been warned.

Neither of us can hold out any longer, and the playful kisses turn to much more. His demeanour calms as it always does, focused and cautious, but confident and alluring. I've yet to find out how he does it; such a serious expression, yet his eyes are warm and soothing as they meet my own. They're a soft brown in the dim lighting of the sea and I momentarily wonder if they would shine gold in the sunlight. My thoughts distract me. I'm overly shocked as he enters me, and he stops, expression nothing but concern as if he's hurt me. It's my turn to give reassurance, and we continue; my full attention now on him.

It doesn't hurt like it did the first time, but the sting is still there. The slight pain only seems to add to the pleasure, though I wont admit it. When gentle strokes turn to rough, but cautious thrusts and firm grasps that threaten to bruise, when incoherent murmurs become low growls I can't help but call out for him louder then before. And thank a God I don't pray to that these walls are sound proof.

I never want it to end, but like all good things, it does. We're laying beside each other, whispering pointless things we probably wont remember in the morning. I am nothing but content in his arms; warm and dizzy from pleasure, half asleep. I'm always the first to give into the coaxing of slumber, too tired to keep my eyes open I listen to the low rumbling of his voice as I drift into unconsciousness.

He's actually at my practice today, a rare sight indeed. Though he arrives a half hour later then I do, and stands quietly behind me as I work through a particularly complicated score. To my surprise he asks me to stop; to turn and face him. I do as told, of course, like the good pet I am. I wait for him to speak again, though he takes his sweet time, hazel eyes burning through my own paler blues. For once he remains silent, not a long droning of flowery words and over dramatic gestures. A split second for rage to twist his features and he lashes out, hand hitting my face hard enough to send me to the floor.

He's speaking now, screaming actually. I don't know what he's saying, my vision hosts black spots; not from the attack but from the lack of oxygen. My throat is swelling, thoughts racing, I'm dizzy, what is he saying? The noises I'm making are inhuman, gasps and sobs rasped out as if I'm being strangled.

He hits me again and I make out the words 'shut up'.

I don't get back up this time, curled on the floor with my arms over my head. The flood of noise from my own heart pounding my ears and the artist's ravings make the nausea worse and my body convulses. A hand grabs my wrist and tries to drag me up but I can't and I earn another slap for collapsing back to the ground.

Then the screaming stops.

He's gone.

I don't get up. I can't get up. I remain curled on the floor, terrified. I'm not sure how long I stay there, pushed back against my beloved piano. Eventually I stop shaking enough to push myself up to my feet and stagger along the path to my home.

I think he stopped by while I was sleeping, unless the rapping on my apartment door was just a dream… I almost hope it was; I don't want him to see me like this. I fear his temper will push him to do something we will both regret, and for that I'll risk ignoring him until I can hide my wounds.

After a few days I go to someone else for a middleman, hoping he could at least reassure me. But he only gives me vague detail with insults slipped between assumptions; he never liked our relationship. Though I don't become upset at him for it, he worries for my safety, my sanity… I thank him even though he hasn't told me anything save things to add to my worries.

_drinking himself into a stupor._

Probably, he says. Yet I still let the worry eat away at me. I want to go see him soon, maybe some stolen stage make up can cover the bruises I know still stain my face. Hiding things from him like this adds guilt to my worry. I feel ill…

I go home and sleep some more so I don't have to think.

It's been too long since I've seen him, and I can't stand it any longer. When I go to his apartment he's not there. It empty and seems to have been for a good time. I have to force my breaths to calm as anxiety clutches my chest. I don't even know where to go from there, but I let my feet lead me to the artist's domain. If not home, he has to be here… somewhere.

I don't make it far before he appears behind me, that fluttering laugh and voice lined with the utmost confidence as if he could never utter anything other then fact.

_You'll never see him again, I've locked him away, so he may never lay his filthy hands on you again._

The fear I felt towards him didn't hold up against the swell of vicious rage, and I don't know how I stopped myself from leaping at his throat. I remained quiet though, not even questioning his words.

_I know what he has done, my poor little lark. So lost and confused and you don't even know how vulgar the things he has done to you are, but you needn't fear for I've punished him for it._

He acts as if he's done me a favour, smile holding a deranged sense of caring. I remain silent as I turn away from him and sprint to where I know he has locked him away. I desperately hope he's unscathed, that's he's alive.

I know nothing of hacking, no monstrous strength, knowledge of hidden pathways. So I stare at the door in front of me; I tried pounding on it and calling his name but I got no answer… I know he's in there. Hours must have slipped by as I stood under the obnoxious neon sign above me, legs growing numb from their disuse.

They give out and I collapse to my knees in front of the door, my mind has shut down, thoughts move sluggishly through my conscious and I no longer feel any of my limbs, nor the wet trails smeared down my face.

If my thoughts still functioned I would feel nothing but guilt. I hid from him and lied; no proper warnings or goodbyes before disappearing from his side for so long. I took for granted what I had and selfishly hid myself away, and I'm being punished for it. I had fallen for him what seemed like so long ago and had gotten the gift of returned feelings, of a committed relationship, love and affection, even adoration. Patience, security, caring, kindness, attention… there was no perfection between us, there were faults and hardships even without our mentor being against what we cherished, but it was everything I craved and I so greedily took it all in, and let it take me so high.

And how hard I fell when it was torn away from me.


End file.
